


When the Snow is Falling

by ChocolateCapCookie



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Howard Stark's Good Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Feels, M/M, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Maria Stark's Good Parenting, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27682469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie
Summary: Steve visits Tony's family for Christmas, and he doesn't expect it to go well. Nothing in his life has gone well recently, and he's nervous and worried about fitting in with the rich, regal, disapproving StarksThey seem to hate Steve the minute they set their eyes on him. However, with the help of his amazing boyfriend, an enigmatic butler and a touch of Christmas magic, Steve finds himself with a new family that he never thought he could have.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 44
Kudos: 138
Collections: Marvel Holiday Movie Prompt Fest 2020, POTS (18+) Smol Steve Appreciation Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "Character A is super excited to bring Character B home for the holidays, but Character B is nervous since they’re very different from the family. The family is not receptive at first, but eventually warm and Character B is welcomed (Based on _The Christmas Stone_ )".
> 
> I've never watched that movie before and I have no idea what the plot is so hopefully it matches up a little haha. This is just an excuse to write a lot of Christmas/winter fluff, with some angst thrown in, and every single Christmas movie trope I could think of.
> 
> I wanted to post this in December but who can wait that long lmao. Sorry if this is too early to be thinking about Christmas
> 
> Thanks to [@mayamoksin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayamoksin) and [@lmao_thunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmao_thunder/pseuds/lmao_thunder) for the thoroughly wonderful beta job!

Steve blinked his eyes open and then, very decidedly, shut them tight again. He curled his body into a tighter ball and snuggled up against his boyfriend, fighting against the cold. And by  _ god _ , was it cold. Steve had wool socks on his feet, pyjama pants  _ and  _ a loose t-shirt on, things he’d never worn to sleep at home in Atlanta, but they were pretty much necessary in these cold Massachusetts winters.

Next to him, Tony slept soundly, an arm wrapped around Steve, pressing him flush to his chest. Steve reveled in the warmth of Tony’s body, closing his eyes and smiling as he pulled his head up to press a kiss to Tony’s jawline.

“Morning,” said Tony, gruffly, and Steve startled. He hadn’t known Tony was awake.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he said, pressing a trail of kisses down Tony’s neck, and then up to his jaw again. “I didn’t mean to wake you up, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” said Tony sleepily, hugging Steve even tighter so as to steal all his warmth. “This is better than sleep.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “You okay? Warm enough?”

“Not really,” grumbled Steve, sticking his feet between Tony’s legs, causing him to chuckle.

“Yeah, well, I can’t control the weather, babe,” said Tony. He kissed Steve deeply, the pair of them smiling like idiots. “Give it another week, and you’ll be begging for this cold. The heat at home is nothing to joke about.”

“Probably nowhere close to Atlanta,” Steve snarked back, but he pulled away from Tony, a sense of nervousness overtaking him. “Are you  _ sure _ it’s okay —”

“—For you to come home with me; yes Steve, like I’ve told you a million times already, I’m not leaving you behind, you can’t be alone for three weeks, and especially not at Christmas. My family is going to  _ love  _ having you, and you’re going to love them too.”

“I thought you said your dad wasn’t okay with you being… whatever you’re calling yourself.”

Tony laughed at that. It was a pretty well-worn joke within their circle of friends, that Tony’s sexuality was as fluid as the coffee he was addicted to. The only constant in his ever-changing attractions was how obviously in love he was with tiny Steve Rogers.

“He isn’t,” admitted Tony, running a finger up and down Steve’s spine, which jutted dangerously out of his back. “But I don’t care about him. You’ll grow on my mother, and Ana and Jarvis will absolutely adore you.”

“That’s… the family butler and his wife, right?” Steve bit his lips nervously. “Tony, what if I mess up and accidentally call your father Jarvis, or your mom Ana?”

“Believe me, you’ll be able to tell the difference pretty quick,” laughed Tony. “Mama’s Italian, and she makes sure you know it. And Jarvis is from England; his accent and mannerisms and all that are pretty distinct.”

“You know, saying I’ll ‘grow on’ your mom isn’t exactly very encouraging,” Steve grumbled, but his tone was undercut as he snuggled closer to Tony, attempting to steal as much of Tony’s body heat as possible. “My dad isn’t exactly the warm and welcoming type, I’ll admit,” said Tony, “But Mama is great. She just takes some time to warm up to people, because that’s how she is around people she doesn’t know. I promise, one day with this adorable face right here—” he pinched Steve’s cheeks and made cooing noises “—and she’ll love you almost as much as I do. You just need to give her a little time.”

“Stop that,” griped Steve, swatting Tony’s hands away, unable to tamp down on his wide smile. “Okay. Yeah. My first Christmas away from home. Should be fun.”

Tony kissed him again, gentle and slow this time, his eyes full of warmth. “And we can stop by and talk to your mom on the way back. Would you like that?” Steve had to try very hard to stop the tears forming in his eyes at that sentence.

“I’d love that.”

  
  
  


Three days later, Steve and Tony were seated on a flight to LAX. Steve was settled comfortably in a business class seat.This was an unimaginable luxury for him, and it was still a compromise; he’d argued and fought with Tony for  _ days _ to stop him from buying a first-class ticket. Steve was skinny enough that even coach seats were a wealth of space, so he was pretty spoiled by the large, reclining seats. He leaned forward and smiled at Tony, whose seat was angled away from his.

He spent the majority of his time on the flight exploring all of the good stuff that came with his ticket, so he only had an hour and a bit to do what he’d normally have done: freak out about his destination.

No doubt, spending the holidays with Tony would be great. Spending it somewhere without constant snowfall and frigid winds would be even better.

But there was nothing Steve’s anxiety-ridden brain liked about spending a three-week Christmas break with Tony’s family; a family that he’d never met before, a family he  _ knew  _ disapproved of his relationship with their son. This compounded by the fact their backgrounds were very different — Steve, the poor orphan from Ireland could in no way compare to  _ the _ Tony Stark, the child prodigy and the sole heir to… well, a lot of money. How was Steve supposed to fit in with that?

Tony’s hand reached between the seat dividers and laced his fingers with Steve’s, as if he knew exactly what Steve was thinking at that moment. Steve squeezed his hand in gratitude, but his mind kept racing, overthinking and stumbling over itself until the plane touched down.

  
  
  


“It’s not that far from the airport,” said Tony as the couple climbed into a car that seemed, to Steve at least, almost more luxurious than the business class seat he’d flown in. “A 45-minute drive. Will you be okay?”

Steve nodded, too busy taking in the smooth leather seats and the car’s mini-bar to focus on Tony’s words. He was exhausted, sure, but he was too nervous to be tired. Even the wonderfully comfortable seats weren’t helping — all he could think of was,  _ When Tony said he was rich, I didn’t expect this. _ Swallowing his nerves down, Steve mentally prepared himself for three weeks surrounded with this type of luxury.

“So before you meet my family, there’s a few things you should know,” said Tony, and he sounded serious enough that Steve turned his full attention to the man. “They’ll love you, Steve, but they’re not the kind of people who openly show affection. So, uh, no PDA.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” snorted Steve, but Tony just cracked on.

“My dad can come off a little cold and formal, but that’s because he’s an asshole. He won’t say shit to you directly, and probably not in front of me, but if he does, you  _ tell _ me, okay? I have had enough of him insulting my dates when I bring them home.”

“It’s okay, Tony.”

“Ana and Jarvis will love you at first sight, I know they will, but they can be a little too invasive sometimes. You don’t have to say or do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Tony…”

“And my mom… when she likes someone, she doesn’t really show it, so she’s probably going to interrogate you tonight to find out everything you like and what your favourites are. Bear with her, okay? It’s embarrassing sometimes, but—”

Steve cut him off. “Tony, your mom sounds great, okay? Like you said, they’ll love me right?”

More famous last words had never been spoken.

  
  
  


Steve’s jaw almost literally dropped when the chauffeur turned the car up a long, winding driveway. It continued on for a quarter-mile, winding up at a mansion so large it looked bigger than the entire corner of Brooklyn that Steve had grown up in.

As Tony helped him out at the dark oak doors, Steve quickly gave himself a once-over in the car’s shiny doors. He looked okay, a little underdressed for this place, maybe, but there was nothing he could do about that now. He’d brushed his teeth and freshened up on the plane with the free grooming kit they’d given him (seriously, he would never,  _ ever  _ fly coach again), but his hair was floppy and soft over his head — even plane-quality hair gel wasn’t good enough to fix that mess. He didn’t seem anywhere near good enough to meet his boyfriend’s parents, in a mansion no less.

He took a deep breath and looked at Tony, who, although outwardly projecting a veneer of confidence, took Steve’s hand to steady himself, and they walked into the house together. An elderly-looking couple, both dressed to the nines, greeted them at the door.

“Welcome back, Anthony.”

“Jarvis!” yelled Tony, pulling the elderly gentleman into a hug. Steve giggled, expecting him to lose his composure, or even look slightly surprised, but the man retained his stoic expression, arms coming up to pat Tony perfunctorily on his back. “I missed you!”

“And we, you, Master Tony,” said the woman, and her voice and the way she so tenderly hugged Tony made Steve choke up a little. She reminded him so much of his own mother.

“This must be your, ah,  _ friend, _ ” said Jarvis, holding his hand up for Steve to shake. He paused for a bit, surprised as Steve did so, but he quickly seemed to come back to the real world, while Tony mock-glared at the man.

“Jarvis, it’s not the 1920s anymore; you can say the word  _ boyfriend, _ you know.”

“We didn’t want to make any assumptions,” said Ana smoothly, now pulling Steve into a hug as well. “You must be Steve. I hope our Tony is treating you well.”

Steve was too flustered to say anything but a squeaky “Yes, ma’am”, causing all three of them to burst into laughter.

“Where’s my mother?” asked Tony expectantly, but Steve noticed that he dropped Steve’s hand and moved slightly further away from him as he spoke about her.  _ No PDA.  _ Well, it was probably for the best, if he wanted to make a good impression.

“She and your father are in his study,” said Jarvis. “They had some… minor work to attend to as they waited for your arrival.”

“Figures,” grumbled Tony, but he smoothed his hair down and motioned for Steve to follow him further into the building. “Jarvis, make up the bedroom down the hall from mine for Steve. And get his stuff carried upstairs too, will you?”

“Of course, Master Anthony.” He turned to Steve. “Would you like for me to take that?”

Steve silently handed his worn backpack over to Jarvis, the only piece of luggage they’d carried inside the house with them. He felt embarrassed now, that his frayed, torn bags would be seen and handled by these people who seemed to him the epitome of grace and beauty. But, well, what could he do now?

Jarvis took the bag from his outstretched hands, and again, there was a brief moment of tension. What the hell was happening? Had Jarvis expected the “Steve” Tony was bringing home to be a girl? Or was this just how butlers were? Whatever. It didn’t matter.

Steve was acutely aware of his scuffed sneakers on the beautiful marble tile as Tony led him deeper into the house.

“I’m not sleeping with you?”

“Believe me, you don’t want my parents to think we sleep together,” said Tony, rolling his eyes. He winked at Steve. “But there’s nothing saying that you can’t sneak into my room after dark. They sleep in a whole different wing anyway.”

Before Steve could ask any more questions, Tony came to a halt in front of a pair of wood-paneled doors that couldn’t have exuded more power if they’d been radioactive. Steve could see even Tony was nervous at the prospect of facing his parents, and almost slipped his hand in his for comfort, but stopped himself in time.  _ No PDA _ .

“Let’s do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates every three days or so. All criticism welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

Tony knocked on the door. Steve had a few brief seconds to look over himself and (attempt to) fix his hair when the door opened, and he was faced with an incredibly smart-looking woman with white hair and fair skin. She wore a formal-looking skirt-and-blazer combo, and her hair was in a tight bun on her head. She had a string of pearls around her neck, and though she looked welcoming, Steve didn’t feel an immediate connection with her — nothing like he’d felt for Ana.

“Hello, Mama.”

“ _Antonio, il mio bambino,_ welcome home!”

Tony leaned forward so his mother could press a kiss to his cheek — they weren’t a hugging family apparently — and she grabbed his shoulders, interrogating him in a torrent of Italian that Steve couldn’t follow at all.

“I’m good, Mama,” grumbled Tony, playfully wiping her kiss off his cheek. “We ate on the plane, and yes, the flight was fine.” Satisfied, Maria Stark turned to Steve, who felt a familiar thread of anxiety run through him.

“And you must be Steve, yes?” she asked, her voice vaguely Italian-accented.

_Get a grip, Steve._

“Uh, yes, ma’am.”

“Welcome to our home. I hope my Antonio has been good to you.”

“Why is everyone asking him that?” complained Tony. “I treat him very well, Mama.”

“I will see that for myself, _bambino_ ,” teased Maria, before turning to scrutinize Steve again. “So you and Antonio are… _in una relazione_?”

“Mama, stop that, you know he doesn’t speak Italian,” said Tony. Somewhere inside Steve’s confused mind, he found himself feeling slightly proud of the fact that Tony had spoken about him enough that his mother knew these tidbits about him. “And yes, we’ve been dating for more than a year now. Don’t drive him away too.”

“I think that will be more your father’s job,” said Maria with a half smile. She gestured at both of them to follow her inside, and Steve felt his feelings of inadequacy grow as he walked through the large, imposing room.

Howard Stark was bent over a desk, reading from a stack of papers. He had the same facial structure as Tony, with a small, well-trimmed moustache and goatee that Steve could picture on Tony in the future. He was dressed just as formally as his wife, in a dark brown blazer and slacks, and he had the hard air of someone who held a lot of authority for a long time. He barely seemed aware that his son, who he hadn’t seen for over a year, was standing in front of him, let alone that Steve was there too.

“Hello, father.”

Howard raised his head, looking mildly annoyed at the disturbance.

“Oh, you come home today, do you?”

“Yes, father, I did send you a copy of our flight details,” said Tony patiently.

“I must have misplaced it,” said Howard dismissively. He turned as if to return to his papers, but caught sight of Steve standing nervously behind Tony. Howard looked Steve over, top to bottom, showing the first sign of interest since Steve and Tony had entered.

“Well,” he said, “Who is this?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony cut him off. “Father, I mentioned I’d bring a friend home. This is Steve, he’s my—”

“He’s your _boyfriend_ , yes, I know.” Howard’s eyes were dark, and Steve had to suppress a shiver. He decided it was a good time to speak up.

“It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Howard’s eyes roved over his skinny frame, and completely ignored Steve’s words.

“Really, Tony, if you want to ignore my wishes, you could have at least chosen someone _better_.”

Steve flushed red, a familiar rush of anger running through his body. He forced himself to calm down. This wasn’t a big, bulky street bully; this was a man who controlled money and a company bigger than Steve could even fathom; this was a man who likely had more power than any king or prince. He couldn’t get into a fight right now. Next to him, Tony rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been out and proud since the sixth grade, but you’d have to have an interest in me to know that,” he sneered. “Well, you can’t do shit now. Steve’s here with me, he’s here for the holidays, and you can learn to suck your homophobic dick for three weeks until we leave. C’mon, Steve.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s wrist and dragged him bodily from the room, and Steve had no choice but to follow. Maria called for them to _fermati_ , but Tony ignored her and didn’t stop until he was halfway down the long hallway, where he paused to let Steve catch his breath.

“I’m really sorry, Steve,” he said, his eyes shining. “I knew he’d be a dick to you, but I didn’t think… I thought he’d wait until dinner, at least.”

“It’s okay, Tony,” said Steve, panting a little. His weak lungs were no joke. “We knew your dad didn’t like me.”

“I should’ve warned you.”

“You did,” said Steve, running a reassuring hand up Tony’s side. “And it’s okay, Tony, I promise. Actually—” he smirked “—I found the whole ‘defending my honour’ thing kinda hot.”

“If that’s hot, I’ll turn into a goddamn Hemsworth by the end of this holiday,” said Tony sullenly, but he had to smile at Steve’s earnest face. “Anyway. It’s just my dad, right? Everybody else loves you, and we’ll probably not even see him that much. We try to avoid each other when we can.”

“See, that’s good,” laughed Steve. “You don’t have to worry about me, Tony. I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  
  
  
  


_This is nowhere near ‘perfectly fine'_ thought Steve a little bewilderedly, as he walked downstairs to dinner with Tony, his eyes roving over his black polo shirt and blue jeans. Tony had suggested they take a short nap before dinner to stave off the jetlag, and after having received a nice, long tour of Tony’s childhood bedroom and his inventions from when he was younger, Steve kissed him goodnight and decided he could do with a nap too.

Except… sleep wouldn’t come. As he lay down on the overly soft, opulent bed, taking in the guest room that seemed like it was bigger than his entire apartment, all Steve could worry about was Howard Stark. Had he really planned on making a _good impression_? Well, that plan had just been kicked out of a window.

It wasn’t surprising, then, that when Tony had knocked on his door to call him downstairs, Steve was a tired, confused mess. He’d made some attempt to dress up and comb his hair neatly, but next to Tony’s button-down shirt and slacks, Steve looked like a mangy street rat. His pale skin and the large bags under his eyes didn’t really help matters either.

“You look great, Steve,” said Tony, kissing his cheek. Apparently, good eyesight was not one of his many great qualities.

“I look like _shit_ ,” grumbled Steve, trying his best to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me to pack more… formal?”

“That’s just how we dress around here,” said Tony reassuringly. “You look perfect, I promise.”

“Fine,” said Steve, “Let’s get this over with.”

“My dad has some meeting he couldn’t get out of, so it’ll just be the three of us. Not that I’m particularly bothered about where the hell my dad is, but at least we can maybe eat in peace.”

Steve nodded, not fully listening to Tony’s words, more focused on his goddamn _clothes_. He’d packed like anyone going on vacation would; several t-shirts and shorts, a few sweaters and hoodies in case the weather got worse, with a few pairs of jeans that were good enough for date night. Tony had certainly never said anything about _dressing up for dinner_ , and he had no clothes that were even near being suitable.

Well, at least Howard wouldn’t be there. That was a ray of sunshine.

Tony held his hand as they walked into the large dining room, despite the whole No PDA thing. Steve noticed Maria Stark and the Jarvises staring at their joined hands in disapproval, but didn’t pull his hand away. Tony knew his family better, after all. The obvious stares that they gave his clothing choice though; that, he could definitely feel bad about.

“Welcome,” said Ana, giving the couple a kind smile. Steve felt marginally more comfortable in her presence. “I hope you are well-rested now, Steve?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said, more confident speaking to this nice, kind woman than he was with anyone else in this house, except maybe Tony. “The room is wonderful.”

“Oh, it’s just one of the spare rooms, dear,” said Ana with a smile. “Do sit, I’m sure you must be hungry after your journey.”

Steve was, in fact, starving, given that the last thing he’d eaten was back in Massachusetts, but he’d been raised with enough manners to not say so. Instead, he seated himself next to Tony silently, clenching his hands in his lap.

“Oh, I see how it is. He’s the new favourite here!” complained Tony, mock-waving his hand in Ana’s direction. She ignored him, probably used to his behaviour by now.

The Jarvises bustled around serving them, while Tony, Maria and Steve said grace around the table and tucked in in silence. Steve had to hold himself back from piling his plate with everything the Jarvises had placed in front of him. The fluffy, golden dinner rolls called out to his very soul, and he could have inhaled the entire tray of delicious-smelling chicken macaroni and cheese by himself, even with the garlic bread sides, if he was allowed to.

“So, Steve,” started Maria a few minutes later, when everyone had served themselves adequately, “How did you and Tony meet?”

Steve had unfortunately just taken a large mouthful of crispy garlic bread, and struggled to swallow it before he could answer.

“We met through a friend,” he said, a few seconds too many later. Damn, there were still breadcrumbs stuck to his teeth. “My best friend Bucky is in several classes with Tony, and whenever I went to see him at MIT, Tony was always around. We hung out for a bit as a group, and then alone, and then he asked me out… and that’s about it.”

Maria Stark wasn’t impressed with his story, he could tell. “And what do you do? You’re younger than my Antonio, correct?”

“Uh, yes ma’am,” he said. Okay, time to formulate a good, parents-pleasing response. “I work at a kindergarten a little ways away from Tony’s apartment. I teach art to the kids.”

“Oh,” said Maria, her eyebrows rising. Steve couldn’t tell if this was a good thing or not, but. “So… you do not study, at the moment?”

“No, ma’am.” Steve wanted to continue, he wanted to explain himself, why a man like him with only a high school degree was dating Tony Stark, the genius who at 22 already had two PhDs under his belt, and was working on a third. Steve wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. He was too choked up on the stupid garlic bread.

“Please, call me Maria, my dear,” said Tony’s mother, apparently unaware of Steve’s ongoing mental anguish. “Forgive me for asking, but… why do you not study? It is something you need in this world, a degree. Would your parents not support you?”

At this, Steve bit his lip to stop himself from crying. She didn’t know, of course, she wasn’t trying to hurt him on purpose — but it still hurt. Tony, seeing his distress, came to the rescue.

“Mama,” he said, kindly but firmly, “Can we talk about something else?” He gave her a significant look, but she either didn’t see it or chose to ignore it.

“Why, Antonio, I was just asking the boy some questions. It is important for young men like you to study and make a living for yourselves. You do not expect to be a… _kindergarten teacher_ forever, do you?”

Tony opened his mouth to speak up again, but Steve smacked his thigh under the table, a clear signal to shut up. Steve wasn’t a baby. He didn’t need Tony to fight his battles for him. Besides, what sort of impression would it make on Tony’s mother, if he looked like he needed Tony to speak for him on everything?

“I… can’t afford to go to college, ma’am — Maria. I had planned to go to art school in March but… I can’t now.”

“Why not, dear?” asked Ana this time. She gave him a sympathetic look, as if she knew what the answer was, and Steve so badly wanted to hug her right then.

“My… my mother got sick in March. Pancreatic cancer. It was too advanced for us to do anything, and she died a couple of months ago. All of the money we’d saved for college, I spent on keeping her comfortable, and then the funeral costs, hospital bills and all of that… I need to work for a couple of years before I can study anything.”

Steve was choking up at this point, and he could barely get any more words out. Ana, he could see, was dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief, but Maria and Jarvis eyed him with stony curiosity.

“What about your father?” asked Maria, and beside him, Tony ground his teeth together. Clearly this dinner wasn’t going the way Tony had wanted it to, but Steve placed a hand on his arm to calm him down. No point getting worked up now.

“He died when I was young,” said Steve simply. “He was in the military.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Maria, more pronounced this time. Steve could barely even see her eyebrows anymore. “So you are, ah… an _orfano_?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, Mama, you can stop the interrogation now,” said Tony through clenched teeth. “Steve clearly doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“ _Bambino_ , I am simply trying to find out about the man who may one day be part of my family,” said Maria smoothly, before turning to Steve again. “So you and your mama are from… this Missing Setts place that my Antonio insists on living in?”

“It’s _Massachusetts_ , mama, like I’ve told you a million times—”

“No, ma’a— Maria. My parents were Irish, and I was born there. They came to America when I was maybe two years old, and we moved to Boston a couple years ago.”

“Ah,” said Maria delicately. “Your mama was… an immigrant I see.” She didn’t say anything more to Steve, but both Steve and Tony could hear when she whispered, in a voice clearly intended to carry, to Jarvis.

“A poor, immigrant, orphaned artist. Is Antonio trying to see who can suck the most money out of him before they leave?”

Steve, despite being 21 and legally an adult, was still what Bucky would call “a stupid punk”. He was quick to anger, and had the self-preservation instincts of a moth. Still, even Steve knew that there was nothing worse he could do right now than yell at his hosts, in front of their son. 

Tony, he could see, had a shocked expression on his face, and looked as though he was getting ready to throw a full-on temper tantrum on his behalf. Steve couldn’t… he couldn’t stick around for that. So he simply pushed his chair back, stood up, and ran from the room, leaving his uneaten food behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't speak Italian, and the few phrases in this are from a combination of websites, so hopefully, they make sense. Please let me know if anything is wrong, and I will definitely fix it!


	3. Chapter 3

Steve walked away from the ornate dining room without a clear sense of direction, having no idea where he was going. All he wanted was to get back to his room, or at the very least, go outside to clear his head. He walked around in a daze, only hearing the words  _ poor, orphaned, immigrant, artist  _ over and over in his head.

He walked and walked until he came to the largest kitchen he’d ever seen in his life. It wouldn’t have been out of place in a five-star Parisian restaurant, but Steve didn’t see the gleaming white marble counters or the closet-sized walk in freezer. All he saw was a door, one that was open enough to reveal a slit of blue sky and grass, and Steve ran outside, uncaring of anything around him.

He collapsed to his knees on the soft, perfectly manicured grass, fighting the urge to cry. What was there for him to cry over?

So Tony’s mother thought he was a gold-digger, that he wasn’t suitable for her son. That was fine. Steve wasn’t what most people would envision as the ideal son-in-law, he knew, let alone for people as sophisticated as Howard and Maria Stark.

And she had a point, no matter how rudely she went about it, about the fact that Steve wasn’t in school. You  _ did  _ need a degree to make something of yourself today, and Steve very much understood where Tony’s mom was coming from. He’d want the same for his own children.

Where she had gone too far though, was in talking about his mother. His beautiful, kind, warm mother who Steve missed more than he could ever express in words. It had only been a little over a month since she had died, and Steve still spent every day feeling like a lost little child. It had always been the two of them against the world, and even Tony couldn’t fill the ma-shaped hole in his heart right now.

And for Maria Stark to simply  _ belittle _ her like that; to accuse her of being a stereotype of the poor immigrant — that hurt more than even Howard’s words had earlier. His mother had deserved the world, not some rich socialite talking her down even after her death.

Steve sat there silently, trying valiantly to fight against the tears threatening to fall down his face. He couldn’t cry. He  _ wouldn’t  _ cry, not here, not when the Starks would see it as another sign of weakness. He just took deep, shuddering breaths, absent-mindedly pulling and destroying the grass under his fingers as he thought about the wonderful, wonderful woman Sarah Rogers had been.

He could’ve been sitting there for a few minutes, maybe an hour; he had no idea. He barely even realized time was passing until, out of nowhere, a body fell on top of him, squeezing him so hard that he could barely breathe.

  
  
  


As soon as Steve left the room, Tony turned on his mother.

“Mama, how could you?!”

To her credit, she did seem slightly ashamed. “I was just making conversation with your friend, Antonio, I did not know he was this sensitive.”

“ _ Sensitive _ ?!” Tony was so angry he wanted to physically flip the table. “I TOLD you not to ask about his family. I TOLD you his mother — who was his only family by the way — died not 50 days ago! Why would you bring that up? And now?”

“I only want the best for you,  _ bambino _ ,” said Maria, her voice suddenly stern. “I will not let you fool around with someone whose family cannot provide for you.”

“Is that what this is about? You want me to marry someone from a ‘good family’?” Tony almost spat on the table in anger. “Mama, I’ve  _ met  _ Sarah Rogers. I’ve seen how hard she worked for her family. There’s nobody better I could marry — and we haven’t even talked about getting married yet!”

“Tony,” she said, and it was the use of his nickname that really got him to shut up and listen, “Steve may be a nice person. He may even be your soulmate. But he is still a poor orphan, from a poor immigrant family, and you are blessed with riches. I am only trying to protect you from having your heart broken later.”  _ I’m saying Steve is a gold-digger _ , she didn’t say, but the implication was so clear there was no way Tony could miss it.

“Fuck you,” he said, the venom in his voice unmistakable, and he ran out of the dining room leaving three distressed faces behind.

He had to find Steve. His mother was right about one thing — Steve really was sensitive, especially on the subject of his mother, although if you tried to bring it up, he’d brush you away and pretend he was fine. Tony knew him better, though, and right now, he needed to find his boyfriend before he went into a spiral over his mom’s death — or even worse, over what Maria had said to him.

He looked around him desperately, having no idea where Steve might have disappeared to. He made a quick detour to check on their room, but Steve was nowhere near them, which was kind of terrifying — this place was a literal maze, and there was no way of telling how lost he felt right now. In this place, it could take  _ hours  _ to find him.

Luck was on his side, though. After only about five minutes, Tony spotted Steve after a chance look out of a balcony on the third floor. It had to be Steve; none of the servants in their home had the time to stay seated so still. Tony breathed a sigh of relief, rushing down the stairs. Maybe the gods were shining some of their good fortune on him to make up for the shitty day he’d had.

It took longer for Tony to find the right door to the outside than it did to find Steve in the first place. He was growing more frantic and hurried, so he was extremely relieved when he stumbled into the empty kitchen, catching sight of Steve on the grass beyond the garden door.

Tony was so relieved, he ran up to Steve and immediately pounced on him, pulling his bony body into the tightest hug it could endure. Steve spluttered beneath him, saying something that sounded like “Tony… can’t breathe…”, but Tony ignored him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling for reasons he couldn’t parse. “I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said Steve, his hand coming up to pat Tony awkwardly on the back. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything.”

“Exactly,” said Tony, his hands balling into fists. He’d been too busy worrying about Steve, but now all his anger at his mother came rushing back. “I should have stopped her. I should have defended you. I should’ve done  _ something. _ All I did was sit there and stuff my face.”

“I wouldn’t have let you say anything,” said Steve softly. “It’s okay, Tony, I promise.”

“I didn’t think she’d be this bad,” sighed Tony. He pulled away from Steve and sat next to him on the lawn, not even caring about how the sand and loose leaves stained his freshly-ironed slacks. “I  _ told  _ her before we came, I made her  _ promise _ not to bring up your mom. And she did it anyway.” He sighed, pressing his face into his hands. “She’s such a fucking  _ hypocrite,  _ talking about immigrants like she didn’t only come to this country after she married my father.”

“I don’t really blame her, Tony,” said Steve. “She was only looking out for you. To be honest, if my child brought someone home, I’d want to make sure they’re a good person too.”

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” asked Tony, putting an arm around Steve and pulling him down so that his head rested on Tony’s shoulder. “Do you think… do you want to go back home? I won’t blame you; I wouldn't want to stay here with how my parents are treating you either.” Tony sighed. “I can get us back to Cambridge tomorrow, and we could spend Christmas together. Alone. Just us.”

“Tony,” said Steve, fond but mildly admonishing, “You just  _ got  _ here. You can’t leave your family now.” 

“Yeah, I can,” said Tony. “If they can’t respect you, I have no reason to stay.”

”You know how excited your mom and the Jarvises were to have you back. I can’t drag you away from that.”

“But they’re being so—”

“And it’s okay,” said Steve firmly. “You said they’d need some time to warm up to me; I can’t expect them to love me at first sight. And, c’mon Tony, they’d hate me even more if they think I stole their precious son away in the middle of the holidays.”

“Why are you always right?” grumbled Tony and Steve giggled at that, tilting his head up to kiss Tony. He cuddled further into Tony’s body, feeling a thread of happiness for the first time all day.

“Because I love you,” he said in between kisses. “And you love your family, even if you don’t want to admit it right now.”

“Goddamn you and your big heart,” said Tony fondly, pulling Steve down so they were lying in the grass together. “Okay. We’ll stay. But if my parents do ir say anything else to you—”

“— we ignore them and try to have a nice Christmas,” finished Steve, to which Tony mockingly punched him in the shoulder. They play-fought in the grass, Tony’s tie coming undone and Steve black polo covered with grass stains, until Tony managed to pin Steve down.

“Get off me, you asshole,” laughed Steve as Tony pulled him into a victory kiss, lying in the grass. Steve sighed in contentment, the commotion at dinner already forgotten. The two of them laid together until the stars came out, wrapped in their own world, not noticing Howard Stark’s beady eyes watching their every move from above

  
  
  


Tony kissed Steve goodnight as they parted in the hallway to their respective rooms.

“Are you okay sleeping alone?” asked Tony, only half joking. Steve rolled his eyes.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” he said, pushing Tony into his room. “And don’t you dare sneak in here tonight, mister.”

“Aw,” Tony said with a pout. “Then what am I supposed to do all night?”

“Your right hand’s getting pretty lonely. Maybe use him again,” teased Steve, kissing Tony one last time before walking down the hallway to his own room.

As soon as he shut the door, all the faux-happiness and smiles he’d kept up around Tony vanished, and a wave of tiredness crashed over him. He had to force himself not to simply collapse on the floor, pushing himself to the en-suite toilet and then into a pair of clean boxer shorts (Tony had been right; the heat really was something, even in the middle of December) before falling into the soft four-poster bed.

He’d never been so mentally exhausted in his life. He knew he’d done the right thing, making Tony stay, but even Steve couldn’t see any sunshine, smiles or happiness on the horizon over the next few weeks. Howard Stark had pretty plainly stated how much he disliked Steve, and Maria Stark thought of him as some starving gold-digger. Even Jarvis seemed oddly distant, and the only person in this place who had shown even a semblance of kindness towards Steve — besides Tony, of course — was Ana, who didn’t really count.

There was only so much he could do to change their opinion of him, and even then, he suspected, the Starks would never take to him now. They’d never consider him suitable for their son. He should just break up with Tony, and save everyone the inevitable heartbreak.

But that was just taking the easy way out, wasn’t it? He loved Tony, and he knew Tony loved him. Wasn’t that enough to withstand the test of family? At least, that was the message in every cheesy Christmas movie he’d watched, and they had to be based on  _ some  _ form of reality, right?

Steve fell into a fitful sleep that way, tossing and turning until the morning rays shone into his room.


	4. Chapter 4

For the next few days, Steve and Tony tiptoed around his family, avoiding them when possible. ‘Tiptoed’ may not even have been the right word, given that the couple spent most of their time outside the house, to minimize any chance of them interacting with the Starks.

Tony took Steve into the woods to show him all his favourite haunts as a child. “Dad didn’t give me much free time,” he explained, “But when he did, I’d beg Ana for a picnic basket and wander around here. It was the most free I ever felt in that house.”

Tony showed Steve the shed he’d hidden his earliest inventions in; hidden because he knew they were useless enough that either Jarvis or Ana would throw them away, and he had enough sentimental affection for them that he wanted to keep them around. Steve particularly loved a modified version of a children’s action figure  — Captain America, but with an ugly retractable shield that 3-year-old Tony had clearly made himself. Steve loved it.

“You liked Captain America?” he asked, teasing, and Tony blushed. “I was a  _ kid _ ,” he mumbled as he grabbed the toy back, but Steve noticed how lovingly he placed the toy back in its corner, lined with silk sheets to keep it from getting dusty. He clearly was nowhere near over it.

The one place Steve really wanted Tony to take him was the town down the hill, a sight he hadn't expected from all his tabloid knowledge of how the Starks lived, about a mile away from the Stark mansion. Tony resisted. He’d barely ever gone there, he said, and the few times he did, it was with his father, for the opening ceremony of the new elementary school, or as the guest of honour for some festival. Even that had died down as Tony grew older, and as he’d never been allowed to visit the place himself, he saw no attraction in it.

“But it’ll be  _ fun _ ,” wheedled Steve, who had a few memories of his parents’ village in Ireland. He’d barely been two years old when they left, but he could vaguely remember blue skies between thatched cottages, and people cooing and playing with his chubby cheeks as his mother carried him around. Tony only scoffed as Steve told him this.

“Babe,” he said, not unkindly, “This isn’t one of those happy little villages from a Christmas movie. There’s no cottages or town-criers. They have normal brick houses and running water and electricity and everything. Hell, I think they even have a Starbucks.”

“You are an  _ asshole _ ,” grumbled Steve, but luck happened to be on his side that day. As they walked home, watching the sun set in the distance, Steve spotted a colourful poster stapled to a tree. He ran to it, ripping it off.

“Tony, look!” he squealed. “They’re having a Christmas-themed fair in town next week! Please, please say we can go.”

Tony groaned. “It’ll be crowded and hot and sweaty,” he said, grabbing the poster out of Steve’s hands. He may have had a point though; the poster  _ did  _ make it look fun; advertising carol-singing shows, a Santa’s grotto, hot chocolate and peppermint-flavoured drinks (with alcohol for the adults! the poster proclaimed), plus all the typical trappings of a fair: games and sideshows and junk food stalls.

“Or maybe we could go,” said Tony slowly, and he had to smile at the excited grin that lit Steve’s face up. “Fair warning, it won’t be anything like you expect. There won’t be any snow, and Santa’s going to be dressed in shorts and a t-shirt; he’d suffocate if he didn’t.” Steve didn’t hear a single word, instead wrapping his arms around Tony in a tight hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he yelled, and Tony figured the whole ordeal would be worth it just to see this bright, beautiful smile on Steve’s face.

  
  
  


Steve and Tony stayed in that night; Howard and Maria had left home in the morning for some reason Tony couldn’t even pretend to care about, and that meant they could relax at home for a change.

They were alone in one of the many spacious sitting-rooms in the mansion, dressed down in sweatpants and t-shirts. An electric fire was plugged in, the only source of light in the room, and although it was quite hot, the overall effect was stunning. The room looked every bit like a scene from the Nutcracker.

“Why doesn’t your dad like me?” asked Steve, out of the blue. He was seated with his head in Tony’s lap, both of them messing around on their phones while Tony played absent-mindedly with Steve’s hair. Tony paused, contemplating Steve’s question.

“That’s just… how he is,” he said finally, relaxing his free arm onto Steve’s chest. “I don’t think he’s against homosexuality really; it’s more the fact that I didn’t stick to whatever life plan he’d written down for me the moment I was conceived.” Tony sighed. “I have no idea why he hates you. If anything, I thought he’d  _ like  _ you for making me settle down.” He booped Steve on the nose playfully.

“I can’t take all the credit for that,” laughed Steve, swatting Tony’s hand away. “And your dad should have supported what you wanted, ya know? He can’t control what you do with your life.” Tony only shrugged.

“He wants to, anyway. That’s the whole problem between us.”

“Would he rather have a son that’s unhappy, or one that’s doing his own thing but is actually happy with his life?” Tony laughed but it sounded more sad than anything.

“No, actually,” he said, fiddling with the collar of Steve’s shirt. “I think he’d be fine with me not being happy. Just as long as he gets what he wants, which is me quietly taking over the family business, marrying some girl they choose who’s probably the heir to some other business dad wants to own, and give him a grandson to take the whole thing over.” Tony snorted. “Like I’d ever put another poor kid through all of this.”

Steve sat up and put his arms around Tony, he was too short to rest his head on Tony’s, so he pulled Tony towards him instead.

“What about your mom?”

“You mean why does she hate you?”

“Never mind, that’s a stupid question,” said Steve bitterly. “She thinks I’m some kind of gold-digging loser.”

“Like you said, she’s trying to look out for me, in her own way,” said Tony thoughtfully. “Of course, I’m not saying she’s right. What she said to you wasn’t fair at all. But I don’t know why I didn’t see it coming.”

“You warned me about your father, though.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony rolled his eyes, “I never expected that to go well. He hates me.”

“He never — he was never abusive, was he? Did he ever beat you?”

“No, not really. Neither of them laid a finger on me, and to be fair, I wasn’t a very well-behaved kid either. My dad just likes to make me feel like I’m never going to be good enough for him, or for anything actually, and he makes it pretty clear that I’m a worthless, disappointing waste of space.”

“You’re not,” said Steve fiercely, cuddling up to Tony even harder. Given their height difference, Steve barely did anything, but Tony had to smile anyway. “You’re not… worthless or disappointing. You’re a  _ genius _ , and one of the best people I know and… you’ve done more in 23 years that most people would do in a lifetime. You’re an amazing person, Tony, and your dad is an idiot if he can’t see that.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Steve,” laughed Tony, pinching Steve’s cheeks. “Who’s defending whose honour now?”

“I’m just saying,” said Steve, still flared up, “You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to have such shitty parents. You deserve only good stuff, Tony.”

“I have you, don’t I?” Tony smirked, but he pulled Steve onto his lap and closer towards him, if that was even possible. “You can’t fix anything, now, Steve, and you don’t have to. My dad and I never had a relationship. You can’t miss what you never had, right?”

Steve still looked incensed, and Tony pulled him in by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing their lips together roughly. Steve kissed him back immediately, settling himself on Tony’s thighs, his arms coming to rest around Tony’s shoulders.

“I love you, Tony. I don’t care what your family says. I’m not leaving you, ever. Unless you want me to, maybe.”

“Don’t worry, I’d never want you to leave either,” smiled Tony, kissing Steve, and then kissing him again, and again, and again. He couldn’t control himself around his boy. “What’s the worst they can do, anyway? Cut me off? I can get a job.” He hugged Steve tightly, unable to express how much he loved his boyfriend right then. “You’re worth it to me, Steve.” Steve stayed pressed against Tony, but he nodded his appreciation at his words, placing soft kisses along the line of Tony’s neck.

Steve pulled away after some time but the couple stayed together that way, Tony cradling Steve, both of them staring silently at the flickering flames. Tony occasionally placed quiet, gentle kisses to Steve’s hairline, and Steve fiddled with Tony’s hands between his, but neither of them spoke again, soon fast asleep next to the fire.

One room away, Howard and Maria Stark sat quietly, unable to help overhearing their son in the next room. Both of them sat stock-still, listening to the strains of conversation from the next room. Maria’s eyes were unusually wet, but she wasn’t crying.

“Our Tony is… more stubborn than I had thought,” said Howard, finally, when there was a long unbroken silence.

“Young love,” scoffed Maria, although it didn’t have the usual amount of passion in it, “He will grow out of it soon.”

“He does seem rather happy,” Howard remarked, pouring himself a glass of scotch. “The last time he was home… I didn’t once see him smile. I thought he’d forgotten how.”

“Everyone smiles when they’re in love,” said Maria disdainfully. “He is a child. He will grow out of it.”

“I would not have chosen this Steven as a suitable partner for him,” agreed Howard. “He is too… wild. And not brought up well enough.”

“And he has no money. Forgive me for being a little suspicious that he’s dating our son.” Maria sniffed delicately, like even talking about Steve was enough to trigger her allergies.

“Well,” started Howard, “He was right that he is now an adult. Maybe we can’t keep him on a leash anymore.”

“Are you saying you  _ approve _ of their relationship?” Maria demanded, to which Howard only shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, a first for the famous Howard Stark. “I don’t approve. Not in the strictest sense. But you cannot deny, my love, how much Tony loves this boy. He reminds me of us—” he pressed a kiss to Maria’s knuckles “—when your  _ papa _ said you could not talk to boys.”

“That was different,” huffed Maria, even through the slight smile she couldn’t hide. “We knew what we were doing. And we were both, shall we say… of the same class. This Steve—” she waved her hand in the air as if to make a point “—he does not fit with our family. He is not from our people.”

“Maybe he doesn’t need to be,” said Howard, staring absently at the flames in front of him, “Maybe all he needs is to keep our Antonio happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t realize til I read this over how filler-y it is :/ I promise, the good stuff is coming up soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas fair time!

Steve wanted to dress up in standard Christmas fare, with jackets and mittens and everything, but Tony had to use his veto power to say no this time.

“Steve, I’m already melting in just shorts and a t-shirt. Don’t you dare make me wear any extra layers.”

“But the fair won’t be any fun without Christmas clothes,” Steve pouted, turning his big blue eyes on Tony. It was a trick that usually worked in Steve’s favour, but even the power of Steve’s puppy dog eyes couldn’t convince Tony to wear a hat in this heat.

“Fine,” grumbled Steve, “But you’re wearing the tree-shirt.”

Tony groaned. The Christmas Tree T-Shirt, or the tree-shirt as Steve liked to call it, was, as the name suggested, a t-shirt with a picture of a large, festive Christmas tree. Not normally an embarrassing scenario, except every single ornamental bauble on this tree had a picture of Tony’s face on it.

Tony had bought the shirt online in a fit of narcissism when he was 15 (and also in a completely understandable teenage desire to ‘get back at’ his father by using his credit card on completely useless shit), and embarrassingly, it still fit him. Admittedly, the shirt was somewhat tight now and stuck to Tony like a second skin, but he figured that was what Steve loved most about it.

“I’m not wearing the tree-shirt,” Tony argued. “We’ll be in public, Steve.”

“It’s the shirt or a winter coat. Pick whichever you like.” Steve blew him a kiss, his face the picture of innocence.

“Fine, fine, I’ll wear your damn winter clothes,” he groaned. Sweating to death was better than being seen in public with his own face stretched over his nipples, he reasoned, and the weather was getting slightly colder. Steve cheered.

“You can wear the tree-shirt under it,” he said decisively, “It’ll be cute.”

Tony groaned again. What had he gotten himself into?

  
  
  


“I told you the coat was a good idea,” Steve said as the couple walked into the fair. Somehow, the weather had gotten much colder over the last several days, and there was a chilly wind running through the place. Or maybe it was just because they were on lower ground.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right, whatever.” Tony rolled his eyes, but he was secretly grateful. Even the skin-tight tree-shirt was helping to keep him warm.

“Oh, look at those kids! They’re so cute!” Steve squealed, dragging Tony over to where a group of young children dressed as elves were singing Christmas carols. The overall effect was, indeed, very cute.

Tony wandered off to buy two cups of hot chocolate (without peppermint — he’d been dating Steve for long enough to know that Steve’s aversion to peppermint was strong enough to destroy their entire relationship), and by the time he got back. Steve had already made a new friend.

“I know you like kids, Steve, but really?” he asked, internally melting at the sight of Steve holding a baby with a little Santa hat. It was the most adorable thing he’d seen all day.

“Her parents wanted to buy some beer samples,” said Steve, nodding at the tent next to him, which was appropriately covered up. “So I offered to hold her. And she’s an absolute sweetheart, aren’t you, darling?”

“Steve,” sighed Tony, exasperated but fond, “We’ve talked about this. You can’t go picking up random babies. Even if they’re adorable.” The baby reached out when she heard Tony nearby and gripped at the nearest thing she could reach, which happened to be Tony’s finger. “On the other hand, maybe we can babysit her for a bit.”

They played around with the baby, laughing at her happy giggles, and Tony was almost sad when her parents came back out to retrieve their child. Steve and babies was a very potent combination.

“Our hot chocolate got cold,” said Steve sadly. Tony rolled his eyes.

“And whose fault is that?” he snarked, but he led them to buy two fresh cups of hot chocolate, Tony even mixing a little alcohol into his. God knew he’d need it.

They wandered around the fair, looking at the little sideshows, trying on the Christmassy trinkets, and deciding which junk food cart to stop at for dinner. Several people stopped to smile at them, noticing their linked hands, and Steve, being Steve, stopped every few seconds to pet a dog or talk to a small child.

In the middle of an animated discussion about the merits of corn dogs vs turkey drumsticks, Steve noticed several people moving towards a stage in the middle of the grounds.

“What’s happening?” he asked Tony, who in turn asked it from the nearest stall owner.

“They’re opening a new rec center for the kids,” the lady replied. She was selling ice creams, Tony noted; no wonder she was free enough to talk to them. “That’s the whole point of this festival. How didn’t you know about this?” She eyed the couple curiously. “Everyone’s going to watch the opening; Howard Stark’s going to be there.”

And indeed, as she spoke, Steve and Tony could make out Howard Stark’s distinctive figure climbing onto the small stage. Tony quickly grabbed Steve’s hand and dragged him behind one of the bigger tents.

“Why does he keep putting his stupid head in the middle of everything I do?” groaned Tony as soon as they were out of sight of the main fairground. Of course Howard was here. Why wouldn’t he be? Anything to mess his luck up right?

“We don’t really have to hide out here, do we?” asked Steve, craning his neck to see over the tent. Of course, considering he was half a foot shorter than Tony and about two whole feet shorter than the top of the tent, it was useless, but he still kept trying. It was his trademark Steve Rogers stubbornness.

“I don’t want to go out there,” said Tony bitterly. “He’ll probably make some stupid comment about us from up there. Or even worse, he’ll cause a scene in public about his ‘heathen’ of a son.”

“It’s okay, Tony,” said Steve, patting him gently on the shoulder. He seated himself on the ground and motioned for Tony to sit next to him. “We can stay here until he’s done. I was pretty tired from all the walking anyway.”

Tony sighed, but followed Steve to the floor, which, luckily for them, happened to be a nice clean patch of grass. They shared the snacks they’d bought, Steve refusing to kiss Tony after he’d eaten a peppermint-flavoured candy cane.

“That’s disgusting, Tony, don’t bring that smell anywhere near me.” “Excuse you, peppermint is the most Christmassy of all the flavours.” “It tastes like spicy toothpaste, Tony, I don't know how you can swallow that stuff…” on and on and on like an old married couple.

Steve laid his head down on Tony’s lap as he explained the problems with peppermint as a flavour, and Tony was so busy staring at him, at the stroke of luck that let him be with Steve, this wonderful beautiful, gorgeous man, who was currently talking a mile a minute about peppermint of all things, that he almost missed it when— 

“Tony, look! Snowflakes!”

And indeed, it had started snowing. The air around them exploded with cheers as the other fair-goers also realized it had started snowing, and there was a general atmosphere of mayhem that Steve and Tony could hear but not see.

“I thought you said it didn’t snow here.”

“It doesn’t,” mused Tony. “The last time it snowed at Christmas, I was maybe five or six years old. Jarv has all the pictures.” He leaned over to kiss Steve. “Must be a Christmas miracle.”

Away from the crowds of the fair, the snow really did seem like a miracle. It fell fast, but gently enough to not be a hindrance. Soon, the land in front of Steve and Tony was covered in a thin, undisturbed layer of snow. Tony poked at it curiously.

“It’s… wetter than I thought it would be.” Steve stared at him in surprise.

“Have you never seen snow before?”

“I don't remember much from when I was six, Steve. And the last two years at MIT, I was too busy studying to play in the snow. January is exam season, ya know.”

“That is unacceptable,” growled Steve, and even Tony was surprised at how quickly his tiny boyfriend had pulled him to his feet. “You can’t never have played in the snow before!”

“I just said I haven’t,” laughed Tony, but he followed compliantly as Steve pulled him to the middle of the ground. He had to admit it did feel nice; the snow crunching under his feet, the feeling of the snowflakes landing on his face. He closed his eyes and looked to the heavens like they did in the movies, and it felt so nice and tranquil and peaceful—

—until he was whacked in the shoulder with a snowball.

“Steve, what the hell?”

Steve just grinned evilly. “Snowball fight!” he yelled, and all hell broke loose as the pair threw snowballs at each other, Tony running and dodging everything Steve threw at him. He was at a distinct disadvantage of course; Steve had had much more experience with snow, and Tony could barely figure out the mechanics of how to properly form a snowball. Luckily for him, the fight had to stop before he got pummeled to death: there wasn't enough snow on the ground for a full-scale snowball fight.

“I give up,” Tony proclaimed dramatically, falling on his butt in the snow. Steve giggled and collapsed on top of him. Tony pulled him into a kiss, and then another, and another, and another, Steve gripping the front of Tony’s coat from where he was seated in Tony’s lap. “You were right,” said Tony, after a while, delirious and happy, but also numb from the cold and Steve’s lips on his. “The snow… is great.”

“You see what you’ve been missing out on?” Steve asked, piling snow on Tony’s head. Tony stayed obediently still as Steve shaped a little hat out of snow, his tongue sticking out adorably. The snow kept raining around them, and Tony felt oddly close to Steve, the atmosphere filling him with peace. No wonder there’s so many Christmas rom-coms.

Steve took a picture of Tony in his snow hat, and Tony had to admit he’d done some fine work. Steve gasped then, as if some profound realization had just dawned on him.

“Tony, take off your coat,” he said, or squealed rather.

“Why?” It was cold, and Tony didn’t particularly like the feel of the wind on his bare arms.

“We should take a picture of the tree-shirt with the hat!”

“Oh, come on, Steve,” Tony groaned. “I’m not showing that t-shirt in public!” But Steve’s puppy eyes won him over this time, and Tony reluctantly removed his winter coat, grumbling the whole time. He winced as the cold air hit his skin.

“Can I just say it’s completely your fault if we never have sex again? My parts are freezing.”

“I’m willing to risk that,” chirped Steve cheerfully, and Tony had to roll his eyes as he posed carefully in his ridiculous skin-tight shirt, holding his head straight so that the snow hat wouldn’t fall off.

Still, it was kind of sweet to see how happy this made Steve, who had him posing in more and more ridiculous angles. It was embarrassing but it was worth it, to hear Steve’s happy laughs. He’d never admit it, but it was actually kind of fun; Steve was a good amateur photographer, and the snowy backdrop made for some wonderful pictures, especially when Steve joined him in them, taking selfies of them messing around in the snow.

Tony swept into his role, flexing his thighs and his muscles in ways he could never do without the help of this ridiculously tight t-shirt. Steve seemed to enjoy his pecs the most, so Tony flexed those as well like some kind of mini–Muscle Man. He’d no doubt regret it later when Steve showed these pictures to Rhodey or Bucky, but for now, at least nobody could see them.

Of course, his luck was never that good.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

Tony scrambled to his feet immediately, his father’s voice automatically filling him with dread. Beside him, Steve seemed numbed, scrambling to his feet as well, and pushing Tony’s coat towards him.

Oh right. He was still wearing the goddamned tree-shirt.

“Father,” he said breathlessly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I saw you run away and hide when I was on stage,” said Howard dryly, and both Steve and Tony looked at each other in despair. Realistically, Tony knew he was an adult now, with the right to make his own choices, and that Howard hadn’t caught him doing anything too terrible anyway; messing around with his boyfriend in the snow was nowhere near the top of the list of Horrible Things Tony Has Done To Howard. He knew that. And still, both boys felt like naughty schoolchildren about to be punished.

“You still seem to have trouble behaving yourself in public,” said Howard mildly, and Tony blushed red, even in the cold wind.

“We didn’t… I didn’t think—”

“That is your first mistake. Always act like someone is watching you at all times. Everyone has cameras on them now.”

“Yes, father,” said Tony contritely, and then he caught himself. What was he doing? He didn’t need to listen to what Howard had to say — that was the entire basis of their relationship. Beside him, Steve was quiet, trembling with what was probably fear.

“Well if you’re done spying on us, Father,” he said, a little aggressively, “Steve and I have to leave now.”

“I wasn’t spying; merely observing,” said Howard, and he actually seemed a little offended. How hilarious.

“Big fucking difference,” Tony snapped, but Howard held a hand up in surrender.

“I wanted to talk to you, Tony,” he said, and for some reason, his voice seemed… somewhat conciliatory? Well that was an emotion he’d never seen Howard display before.

“Can I talk to my son in private, Mr. Rogers?” asked Howard. Steve nodded jerkily and ran off to the front of the tents, clearly having gotten the wrong impression. Tony wished he could tell him that this was actually Howard Stark being nice.

“Tony,” he started, but then stopped. He seemed to have trouble forming the right words, but Tony had no pity for him right then.

“If you have nothing important to say, can I go?” he asked, a little rudely, but it was fine. His father had spoken in much worse ways to him before.

“I wanted to tell you…” Howard said, and this time, he seemed to grit his teeth and power through it, “I want to apologize for how I have acted.”

Tony’s jaw fell. Quite literally.

“Shut your mouth, Anthony, do you have no manners?”

“Did you just… apologize? To me?” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Which one thing are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t like your tone,” Howard snapped, but he forced himself to calm down “I was… I should not have judged your sexuality. And Mr. Rogers seems like a fine partner for you. I am sorry for what I said to him.”

“His name is Steve,” Tony snapped. “And what are you playing at? Why the sudden apology? What do you want from me?”

Howard sighed, and all of a sudden, Tony could see his father’s age in his face. It wasn’t the perfectly polished mask he kept up in front of the world, but instead the face of an old man trying to talk to his only son. “I know you think I hate you,” Howard started, “And I’m not denying that I have acted that way. I blame myself for our poor relationship. Even if you had some part in it, you were a child. The responsibility is fully mine.”

“What the hell are you—”

“But I am still your father, Tony,” Howard continued. “I am still your parent. My only wish is to see you happy. And this boy—” Howard nodded towards the tent “—I can see he makes you happy.

“I watched you now, and over the last few days. Even if you were acting like children, I have never seen you smile so much before, Tony. You looked like… you looked like your mother, when the two of us were first married. She had the same sparkling eyes you have. I have not seen that sparkle in a long time, in either of you.” Howard sighed. “This boy… he may be poor, but he is good for you. He makes you happy. You two are… you are good together.”

Tony listened to his father’s monologue with open eyes. This was not the Howard Stark he knew.

“I—”

“You do not have to forgive me, Tony. I understand we may have passed that point a long time ago. But I want you to know that I approve of your relationship with this boy, and you have my blessing to take this relationship further.”

Howard patted Tony awkwardly on the shoulder, and moved to leave. Tony, who had been struck dumb, suddenly gripped his father’s hand.

“You didn’t mean that,” said Tony hoarsely. “You didn’t mean any of that. Did you?”

“Of course I did.”

Tony stayed numb, speechless for a moment. Then he felt his body move with no conscious control, like he was being controlled by some invisible power. He reached over and… put his arms around Howard. Hugging him.

“What...Tony, what are you doing—”

“I don’t know,” said Tony, his voice still choked up. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it made the child in him happy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his father, especially when Howard’s hands raised awkwardly to wrap around Tony, both men unsure of what they were doing.

“Thank you, dad. I… Steve will be happy. When I tell him.”

They stayed that way, awkwardly hugging each other for a few seconds. Neither of them wanted to pull away, although Tony couldn't tell if it was because it was too awkward or too emotional.

“Tony?” a voice called out from behind him, and oh, bless Steve for his perfect sense of timing. Tony quickly pulled away from his father, running to Steve and pulling him along.

“Steve, my dad has something to say to you,” he said and he was proud to note that there was almost no trace of tears in his voice. That would have been embarrassing, crying in front of his dad.

“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you,” said Howard sincerely. “I realize now that you are a good man, and you are a good partner for my son. I hope he makes you as happy as you make him.”

And, c’mon, Tony was only human. He cried.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers in endnotes!

“Come in!” yelled Tony, in response to the quick knock on his door. It was a few days after the fair, and Steve had come down with a mild cold. He’d had a headache that morning and refused to leave his bed, so Tony was alone in his room, going over a stack of old pictures.

He looked up as Jarvis peeked his head in. “Oh hey, J,” said Tony, turning his attention back to the pictures he held. Steve would get a kick out of this one where he’d dressed up as Iron Man for Halloween, he decided, and placed it in a separate pile. “What’s up?”

“Your mother has asked me to escort you to her chambers,” said Jarvis; apparently 22 years of looking after Tony, wiping his ass, and chasing after him to make sure he didn’t kill himself as a child weren’t enough to overpower the refined British qualities he’d been trained with.

“Has she not understood yet that we — that  _ I  _ — don’t want to talk to her?”

“If I may take the liberty, Tony,” said Jarvis gently, “I believe you may want to listen to your mother’s summons. She does have something important to tell you.”

“Whatever she wants to tell me needs to come  _ after  _ she apologizes to Steve. I haven’t heard one yet, so I’m not going to listen to anything she has to say.” Jarvis sighed, something he only ever did when dealing with Tony.

“She has invited young Steve along too. Ana is with him right now, tending to his migraine.” Tony shot up like a tree.

“Why didn’t you say so before?” Jarvis rolled his eyes — very discreetly, of course.

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, lemme just go grab Steve.”

Tony ran through the door Jarvis helpfully held open for him — one day, he was going to beat it into the butler’s head that he  _ didn’t need to act all formal around Tony _ , but that wasn’t important now — and skidded down the hall into Steve’s room, where Ana was helping him into a clean, pressed button-down shirt.

“Ana,” he said with a grin, “Are you trying to steal my boyfriend from me?”

“Shut up, Tony,” Steve groaned, clearly still suffering from his cold, and Tony motioned Ana away to help Steve himself. 

“Hey, isn’t this my shirt?”

“Mr. Steve asked for a more formal piece of clothing, said Ana. “Is it alright that I gave him your old clothes?”

“Is it  _ alright _ ? Steve, you look  _ adorable _ !” The word Tony actually wanted to use there was “hot”, but that probably wouldn’t be appropriate in front of Ana. Besides, it  _ was  _ adorable in a way that Steve so perfectly filled out the shirts Tony had worn as an awkward 14-year-old.

“Why does your mom want to see us?” asked Steve, as Tony buttoned up his shirt. His eyes were red and he spoke slowly, and Tony could tell the stress of speaking to his mom again wasn’t helping with his headache.

“I don’t know. Jarvis won’t tell me anything.” He glared at the butler, who stood at the door to Steve’s room looking supremely unconcerned.

“Do I look okay?” Steve mumbled, and Tony gave him a quick once-over. He suspected Steve wouldn’t like the real answer, which was that he looked tired and pale, and the clothes, while theoretically more appropriate that any of Steve’s graphic t-shirts, hung limply on his small frame, making him look even smaller and skinnier than he already was.

“You look great,” said Tony encouragingly. “C’mon; the quicker we get there, the quicker we can get this over with.”

“Tony, don’t be mean,” frowned Steve, just as Ana slapped Tony around the head with a handkerchief. He glared at both of them.

“Alright, I’m outnumbered,” he said, rolling his eyes, but appropriately shut up as he and Steve followed Jarvis to his parents’ rooms on the opposite wing of the building. 

He could feel Steve tense up the further they walked, and Tony held his hand tightly in his, rubbing a thumb over it in circles to reassure him. He could feel Steve’s breathing pick up, but neither of them said a word, to each other or to Jarvis, until they reached his mother’s room, and Jarvis opened the door for them.

“Come in,” said Maria from further inside, and Tony felt Steve suppress a shiver at her soft Italian-accented voice. Pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, he led him inside, their hands still clasped together.

Maria Stark was sitting in front of a giant mirror, carefully applying a coat of lipstick. She didn’t acknowledge the couple as they walked in, instead applying and reapplying it until it was perfect. Tony glared at his mother’s back, but didn’t say anything until she turned around and spoke to them.

“ _ Antonio _ , sweetheart. I have not seen much of you since you came home.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is that?” he asked angrily, but he put a lid on his temper when he felt Steve place a calming hand on his thigh.

“Oh, Antoni, do not get so  _ agitato _ over every little thing,” chided Maria. “I called you here to  _ talk  _ to you.” She paused and looked directly at Steve. “And to apologize to you.”

  
  
  
  


Steve was pretty sure he’d heard that incorrectly. Maria Stark… wanted to apologize to him? After almost two weeks of ignoring her? His headache must have been crazier than he thought. Still, he made an effort to listen to her speak.

“I want to tell you how very sorry I am about your mother. You are very young to be living without her, and I am so sorry for your loss.” Steve and Tony were speechless, and she took the opportunity to press on.

“I must apologize for the  _ terrible _ things I may have said about her. I understand you two were close, no?” Steve could only nod his head mutely. “I cannot imagine… a young boy like you, losing his mother… truly, it must have been a tragedy.

“I do not know your mother. I have never met her. But I will say she has raised a polite, kind, loving son; and from you, I can tell she was a wonderful person. I regret that I suggested otherwise.”

“What brought this on?” asked Tony suspiciously, and Maria rolled her eyes.

“It is not important—”

“No, I think it is,” Steve interrupted her. He flushed at the unexpected flash of courage that had just gripped him, but he pressed on. “Thank you for your apology. But I can’t accept it until I know  _ why _ you’ve made it, or how you changed your mind about me so quickly.”

Maria flicked her eyes over the boys’ heads at Jarvis, and seemed to make up her mind about something. “Alright.” She nodded at a point slightly behind them, and Jarvis walked forward.

“I… I must apologize for keeping this from you for such a long time,” he started, and he seemed uncertain, confused in a way Steve had never seen the upright British man be before. “I should have told you much earlier. It is not fair for me to have kept this to myself for so long.”

“Kept  _ what _ ?” asked Tony, frustration clear in his voice, and Steve had to agree. He was getting tired of all the theatrics too. “Spit it out already.”

Jarvis did not spit it out. Instead, he walked closer to Steve, scrutinizing him curiously.

“Has Master Anthony told you much about me?”

“No, not really,” said Steve, wondering where this was going. Jarvis just nodded and launched into his story.

“I’ve worked as your parents’ personal butler since they were married,” said Jarvis to Tony, who nodded mutely, “And I have been in America since. Before then, I lived in England. I went to school there. However, it was not where I was born and brought up.” He took a deep breath and looked directly at Steve. “My parents are Irish. I spent the first ten years of my life in a small village in Ireland. A small village… where my best friend was a young girl named Sarah Murphy.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. Was Jarvis saying… what Steve thought he was saying?

“We were best friends in our childhood,” continued Jarvis heavily. “We loved each other like siblings would. We kept in touch even after I moved to England, and all through our teenage years. I even helped her travel to America after Ana and I were employed permanently here by the Starks.”

Jarvis paused for a second, his voice suspiciously shaky, but Steve didn’t notice that, didn’t notice anyone around him. The only thing he could think of was his mother… his  _ mother _ , who Jarvis was talking about.

“She did not do as well as I did out here. I only saw you once, when you were a baby, when your family still lived in Ireland. After your father died, I lost contact with your mother as she moved everywhere in search of work. She had no time to write back to me, and I did not know how to reach her. Every day, I hoped I might hear some news of my old friend, that she would contact me again, but I never heard or saw any part of her again… until I saw you.”

Steve’s eyes met Jarvis’s, and he could see they were as wet and shiny as he imagined his own to be. He bit his lip to keep from crying, as Jarvis slowly placed his hand on Steve’s cheek.

“You have her eyes,” he murmured. “Exactly her eyes. I knew you were her son as soon as I saw you with Tony.”

“And you kept it from Steve for this long?” asked Tony from beside him. Steve startled. He had forgotten there were even other people in the room.

“I did not want to say anything, in case I was wrong. The only thing I knew about you—” he looked back at Steve “—is that your name was Steven, and that you were a small baby with several health problems. No one expected you to live for over a month. When I saw you… I thought it was much too large a coincidence to be true.” Jarvis shook his head. “And I kept quiet, until Master Tony here told us he’d met your mother… a woman named Sarah Rogers. When I heard she had died…” Jarvis broke off, choked up, unable to finish the sentence.

Tony, who had been sitting stunned the whole time, placed a soft hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Steve stood up, pushing Tony’s well-meant arm out of the way. He walked blindly to the other side of the room, tears filling his eyes.

He didn’t even know  _ why  _ he was so affected. His mother was dead; no amount of meeting her old friends would ever bring her back. But… he’d always thought they were all each other had. Even when Steve was growing up, the only other friend he’d had was Bucky. His mother had no time for friendships; she was always busy working to put a roof over their heads, to pay for Steve’s medical bills, to give him the best of everything. It had always been  _ just the two of them _ .

And now, knowing that there were still people who knew her and thought about her, people who had  _ loved  _ her… Steve couldn’t hold back another wave of tears, sobbing in a corner of Maria Stark’s private bedroom.

He felt Tony’s arm wrap around his shoulders, pulling him in so that Steve’s head rested on his chest. Steve sniffled and tried to control himself — this was not a state he wanted Maria Stark to see him in — but it wasn’t easy, especially with Tony wrapped so warm and comforting around him.

“You have horrible timing,” he heard Tony say, whether to Jarvis or to his mother Steve couldn’t tell, but he wiped his eyes discreetly on his sleeve. His face was likely still wet and blotchy, but well… he couldn’t really do anything about it now. He pulled away from Tony, only slightly embarrassed when he saw the wet splotches he’d caused in the front of Tony’s shirt. He had more important things to be worried about.

“I am very sorry, Steve,” said Maria, again, and Steve only nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor. He couldn’t risk looking any of them in the eye, or he’d burst into tears again. “When Jarvis told me about your mother, I realized how very wrong I was. Both about her, and about you. He told me all about her, and I know now that any son of hers will make a wonderful match for my Antonio.” She reached over to clasp Steve’s hand in hers.

“I am very sorry for the way I treated you. Truly, it was unacceptable. My only excuse is that I wanted my Antonio to be happy. I did not want him to end up with someone unsuitable… which I know now you are not.”

“It’s okay,” said Steve, thickly. “I understand.” He could hear his own voice, choked up and cracked, and he couldn’t talk anymore. This was just… too much.

“Well, if we’re done with all the emotional secrets,” said Tony, standing up, “Steve and I need to go.”

Steve stood up, blindly following Tony to wherever he wanted to go. He didn’t think he had the ability to make any decisions on his own right now.

“Wait,” said Ana, softly, causing Tony to stop in his tracks. “Edwin did not want to give you this… but I think you must have it.” She handed a couple of pieces of paper to Tony, who gripped them tight. Steve wanted to ask, but Tony propelled him out of the door, barely giving anyone a second glance before he shut the door of his mother’s room behind him.

“You okay?” he asked softly, and Steve could only nod. He wasn’t okay. He was nowhere near okay. But for the first time since his mother’s death, he felt the ache of it subside a little.

“C’mon,” said Tony, leading Steve to an ornate couch. “You need to see these.” He held the papers out, and Steve realized they weren’t papers at all. They were photographs.

Steve’s heart clenched as he looked at the first one. It was, unmistakably, a picture of his mother. She looked younger than Steve had known her, a soft happiness in her face that life’s troubles hadn’t beaten out of her yet. She held a baby in her arms, a baby so small it could almost have been mistaken for a kitten or a puppy. Steve felt the tears flow freely as he tenderly felt over the picture, at where his mother held him with such love. He didn’t have any pictures of her from before the last year or so, when he’d finally saved enough money to buy a broken-down old phone. He definitely didn’t have any pictures of his younger self.

Tony handed him the second picture. This one had four people in it, not counting the baby. The Jarvises and Joseph Rogers, seated beside Sarah. All of them smiling happily at the camera as baby Steve waved a tiny arm out of the pile of blankets. Steve looked at the photo for several minutes, tracing the outlines of his parents’ faces. He remembered what his father looked like, even though he hadn’t seen the man or any pictures of him since he was five years old. Sarah Rogers was smiling, beaming really, surrounded by her friends, her husband and her newborn son. They looked so…  _ happy _ .

“Your mom looks really sweet,” said Tony from beside him, looking over the first picture. “I can’t believe you were so tiny.”

“I was always a sick kid,” mumbled Steve wetly, wiping his eyes on his shirt.

“And you’re still my tiny, sick boyfriend,” said Tony fondly, pressing a kiss to Steve’s hair. “Are you sure you’re okay? This… this is a lot to handle.”

“I’m fine,” said Steve, wiping away the last of his tears. He wasn’t fine. His head was aching from how much he’d cried, and his mind was racing with everything that had happened in the last hour. Still, it wasn’t fair to burden Tony with that. “I just want to take a nap.”

“Understandable,” said Tony. He stood up and pulled Steve to his feet. “C’mon, you can sleep until dinner. I’ll make sure to get them to make your favourite.”

“Thanks,” said Steve, rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help smiling at that. He followed Tony back to his room — he still didn’t really know his way around — and the pair collapsed into bed together, Steve falling asleep almost as soon as his head rested on Tony’s chest

  
  
  


Tony waited until Steve was deeply asleep and then pulled away, pressing one last kiss to his forehead. Steve shuffled a little in his sleep, but settled down quickly as Tony left the room.

Tony rubbed a hand over his face, exhausted. He’d planned a nice, relaxing vacation at home, but this had turned into a goddamn Christmas movie.

The whole Jarvis-being-vaguely-related-to-Steve thing had been shocking, but more shocking was the fact that Maria had, suddenly and only on Jarvis’s recommendation, chosen to accept Steve into the family. Tony’s brain had already been fried by his father’s ready acceptance of the couple — now his mother had just made the whole thing a ridiculous situation.

Still, Tony was happy. Finally, really happy. He was never one to listen to his parents all that much, but he couldn’t deny how much happier it made him — and Steve, which by extension made Tony happier — that his parents had come around to him. Steve was one of the greatest people he had ever met, and Tony would’ve held on to him, no matter what his parents said. But of course, having them on their side made a lot of things much easier.

“Antonio,” said a voice from nearby, and Tony looked up to see his mother walking slowly towards him. He shrugged, not looking her in the eye.

“Mama.”

“ _ Mio amore _ , you ran out so suddenly,” she said, coming to a stop in front of him. At this distance, Tony could see her eyes were rimmed red — she’d been crying too. “I didn’t get the chance to apologize to you.”

“To me?” he asked incredulously. “Why—”

“I realize that you may not think of us as the greatest parents,” she said, cutting him off. “You have always been distant from your father. But me… I am your mother. I should have supported you.” She paused a little to collect her thoughts. “I am truly sorry, Tony. I tried to meddle with your relationship, and I could have ended up destroying it. I cannot even say that I was trying to protect you. I should have trusted you enough to know that you would choose the right person.”

Tony bit his lip, avoiding his mother’s eyes.  _ This is not the time to cry, goddammit! _ Still, Maria seemed to sense his tears — it was that superpower all moms seemed to have — and gently cupped his cheek.

“I love you,  _ bambino _ . And I am happy that you have chosen young Steven. He is a good man. He will make you happy.”

“Yeah,” said Tony, his voice thick.  _ Stupid goddamned emotions.  _ “He’s a great person, mama. I would have stayed with him no matter what you said.”

“There is the Antonio I know,” said Maria, smiling. “It will be a cold day in Tuscany before my  _ bambino _ decides to listen to his mother.”

Tony had to smile at that, even as Maria gently wiped his tears away. “I love him, mama. I would have stayed with him no matter what, but I’m happy you decided to accept him.”

“I will do anything, as long as you are happy,  _ amore mio _ ,” said Maria. She smiled, a soft secret smile that Tony immediately understood. “And he is welcome to join this family whenever you want him to.”

She pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek and slipped a small box into his hand, before turning around and walking away. Tony stared at the velvet box in his hands, his heart beating so hard it felt like it would break out of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The _struggle_ to find Sarah Roger's maiden name omg someone tell me if this isnt accurate to the comics bc my research turned up NADA
> 
> Also, what's a Christmas movie without some long, convoluted "reveal", right?


	7. Chapter 7

Tony looked around the table on Christmas Eve, his heart bursting with happiness.  _ So this is why everyone makes such a big deal about family _ , he thought, watching his mother and father chatting happily with Steve — it'd been a rough couple of days after Jarvis's big reveal, but all of them had finally warmed to each other, exactly like Tony knew they would — while Jarvis and Ana poured small cups of hot chocolate and passed them around. The hall had been decorated with tinsel and mistletoe, and cheery Santa wreaths hung on the walls at odd intervals. In the corner, there was a large Christmas tree, and one of the servants had placed some fake presents under it.

Tony kept glancing at the tree every few seconds, his heart beating madly. This was where...this was where he’d hidden it. His Christmas present to Steve was under that tree, and everyone in the family was in on the secret. As the clock ticked on and on and the servants brought in each separate course, Tony only grew more anxious.

By the time dessert had been served, Tony could wait no longer. He waited until he saw Steve lick the last bit of ice cream from his spoon and immediately stood up, ignoring the fact that no one else was done yet.

“Steve,” he said cheerfully, trying to mask the undertone of nervousness in his voice, “Since you’re in the Stark family house for Christmas, you have to participate in our Christmas traditions.”

Steve shot him a confused look. He of all people would know that the Starks had  _ no _ traditions at all, let alone Christmas traditions. Still, his parents and the Jarvises were nodding their heads in agreement like Tony had trained them to, and Steve was compelled to go along.

“And what might these traditions be?” he teased, as if he knew he was putting Tony on the spot. 

“We, uh, don’t like to wait until Christmas morning to open the presents,” said Tony quickly. “We open them on Christmas Eve and get it over with.”

“Because Tony was always an impatient little boy,” said Ana with a smile. “We had to open them early or risk having him break into everyone’s presents.” Tony shot her a small, secretive smile.  _ Thank god for Ana’s quick thinking. _

Steve, though confused, happily accepted everything Tony said. He looked up at Tony with his big baby-blue eyes, as if to say  _ What do I do now?  _ Tony loved him so, so much.

“You can go first, since you’re our guest,” said Tony, and Steve accepted that as well, walking over to the tree with everyone watching.

“Uh, which one’s mine?” Tony rolled his eyes.

“This one,” he said, plucking the foil-covered velvet box from where he’d hidden it behind some of the bigger boxes. His heart beat wildly in his chest. Okay. This was it.

“Thanks,” said Steve, smiling widely. He reached out to take the box from Tony, but Tony, out of instinct more than anything, clutched it to his chest.

“Uh… Tony?”

“This… is another part of our tradition,” he said wildly. “You don’t get to open your own present, uh, the person who bought it… opens it.”

“Okay,” said Steve, more than mildly confused now, but accepting. “Are you going to open it then?”

Tony chanced a quick glance back at his family. Ana shot him a discreet thumbs-up from under the table, and his father was holding his phone up, ready to film the whole thing. Tony felt some of the courage he’d felt earlier flow back into his body. Okay. He could do this.

“Okay, um…” Tony fumbled with the wrapping paper as Steve looked on. He tried to peel it open slowly, trying to prolong the moment, but he was too excited to go slow. Ripping the paper open in record time, he held the velvet box flat in his palm.

“Tony, what’s—”

Steve’s words died out as Tony got to his knees in front of him. From Tony’s position, Steve looked like he was choking, and Tony somehow found the courage to speak up.

“Steve,” he said, soft and gentle. There was so much love in the one word, practically everyone in the room started to tear up. Except for Tony. He had a speech to get through, and there would be enough time for crying later.

“Steve,” he said again, taking in the way Steve’s body was trembling, “I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time we met, since the first time Bucky introduced the two of us. I know we’ve only been dating for a couple years, but… I genuinely cannot even remember how I lived without you. You make me a better person, you support everything I do, you… you make me happy, Steve. I don’t want to ever go back to a world where I live without you.” Tony paused to catch his breath, noting how deeply Steve was breathing now, trying to hold back his tears. “Steve, sweetheart, my love, the love of my life; will you marry me?”

Steve burst out crying then, nodding his head wildly, unable to say a single word. Tony took that for the ‘yes’ that it was and slipped the ring — his father’s engagement ring, a simple band of silver that was all Maria Stark could afford before she got married — onto Steve’s finger. He pulled Steve into a hug, trying his best not to break down too. This was it. He would get to spend the rest of his life with this beautiful, wonderful amazing human being right here.

Steve pulled away and kissed Tony, a soft tender kiss that was probably wetter than it should have been, considering all the tears. Tony didn’t care. He couldn't care about anything right now, except for  _ Steve, Steve, Steve, I’m marrying STEVE. _

Their little bubble was broken as both Steve and Tony noted the cheering from behind them — several of the servants who’d come in to serve up more tea and hot chocolate had stayed to watch the performance. Tony’s parents were a slightly more restrained, as were the Jarvises, but there were hugs and congratulations all around. Tony was especially proud when his father — Howard Stark, who’d so rarely ever shown affection to Tony — gave Steve a manly hug and proclaimed “Welcome to the family!”

Steve stood at the center of all this, happiness shining from his face. He’d come here with no expectations, reeling from the death of his mother. Now, he could go home having found another family, another set of parents, and a wonderful boyfriend — no,  _ fiancé _ .

This was the best Christmas he’d ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallmark, do not employ me please


	8. Epilogue

Steve had to stop himself from dozing off as they rode back to campus. The flight back had been delayed, and then he just _couldn’t_ relax onboard, and he was tired and irritable right now. Next to him, Tony was fiddling with his phone, checking Google Maps every three seconds to make sure they were on the right track.

Steve cuddled up to — his _fiancé_ , he’d never get tired of saying that — trying his best to suppress a yawn as Tony absent-mindedly ran a hand through Steve’s messy blond hair.

“Are we there yet?” he asked petulantly, and Tony laughed before pressing a kiss to Steve’s hair.

“Almost, sweetheart,” he said, nosing at Steve’s hairline. “A couple of minutes, at most?”

“Huh?” Steve sat up, confused. “We’re nowhere near—”

“No,” Tony agreed, “I have to make a quick detour. You don’t mind do you?”

“Of course not,” sighed Steve, settling down to wait, staring at the snowflakes that blew past the window as they drove. Maybe he could take a quick nap while Tony did… whatever he had to do. He’d just closed his eyes, a minute or so later, when Tony poked him.

“Wakey, wakey,” he sang, and Steve did, getting ready to grumble and bitch at moan at Tony for having woken him up. He looked out of the window, and the words died in his mouth.

“Tony…”

“I promised I’d bring you here on the way back didn’t I?” said Tony. Steve looked at him for a second, eyes shining, before he pulled Tony into a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!” he cried, his voice muffled by Tony’s winter coat. Tony simply patted his back, an understanding passing between them that needed no words

“Do you want to go alone?” asked Tony as Steve stepped outside. Steve considered it for a moment, but pulled Tony outside with him.

“She’ll want to see your ring too.”

  
  
  


“Hey, ma,” whispered Steve, kneeling at her grave. It was clean and shiny; apparently someone from the church regularly maintained them. There was a thin layer of snow that would likely be cleaned away tomorrow, and Steve pressed his hand to it, his heart thumping.

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you all this time,” he said, still keeping his voice low, even though Tony was standing a few stones away to give Steve some privacy. “I had to leave for winter break. And you’ll never guess what happened, ma.” He took off his ring, the first time he’d done so since Tony had slipped it on his finger, and placed it on the grave. “Tony proposed to me.”

There was a brief pause.

“Of course I said yes, I’m not an idiot. And his family is great. They didn’t really like me at first but you know your little boy… I can always make everyone like me.” He put his ring back on, staring at the circle-shaped patch that it had left on the clean snow.

“And you’ll never guess who I met, ma. Your old friend, Mr. Edwin Jarvis. He gave me this for you.” Steve placed the photographs Jarvis had given him on his mother’s tombstone, tucking them inside a gathered bit of snow so they wouldn’t fly away. “Don’t worry, I have copies for me. You look beautiful, ma. I sure hope that’s what you look like in Heaven. Wouldn’t be much of a Heaven if you had to live with a cancer-filled body.” Steve bit his lip, gathering his composure before he burst into tears.

“Tony,” he called. “Come here.”

“Are you okay?” asked Tony, hurrying over to Steve’s side. Steve nodded, and pointed at the pictures.

“Say something to her.”

Tony looked unconvinced. “Steve, I don’t think—”

“I know she’d want to talk to you. Just say something. Any little thing.”

Tony sighed. “Hey, Mrs. Rogers,” he started uncertainly. Steve smiled at him to go on. “I know you said to call you Sarah, but… Mrs. Rogers sounds better like this.” He laughed a little weakly. “Steve probably already told you this, but we’re engaged.” He waved his hand in the air to display his ring, one that Steve had bought in town as soon as the shops were open.

“He’s a great guy, Mrs. Rogers, and I’m so lucky to be marrying him. You raised a great son, and my parents think so too. I’m sure they’d send their best wishes, if they knew I was here.” He paused, not knowing what else to say. “Thank you. For your son.”

“That’s sweet,” teased Steve, and Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

“Do you want to get back? It’s getting dark. And cold.”

“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute.” Steve kissed Tony’s cheek and watched him walk away, until Steve was all alone in the graveyard.

Just him and his mother.

“Tony’s a great guy,” he said, kneeling once more at his mother’s grave. “He’s going to make me so happy, ma. I love him so much, and I know you’d have loved him too. I wish you could be there at the wedding.” Steve paused, reaching a hand over to his mother’s headstone. A few tears slipped down his face, but he made no effort to wipe them off.

“I miss you. I miss you so much. Tony’s parents are great, and Jarvis is like the uncle I never had, but they’re not you.” Steve’s voice was shaking now, trembling with the weight of his love for his mother. “I love you, ma. I’ll be back soon, okay? I'll bring Tony with me. Maybe you can watch over us, make us as happy as you were with dad.” He pressed a quick kiss to the stone — who gave a shit if anyone was watching — and hurried away, only looking back once. The photographs fluttered in the wind, the only remaining sign to show that Sarah Rogers had once been known and loved.

Steve climbed into the heated car, immediately cuddling up to Tony, who pulled him into a nice, warm hug. Steve closed his eyes, wiping the last trace of frozen tears away. He had made his peace with his mother. He was seated with the love of his life, with a wonderful, unimaginable future in front of them.

Steve had never been more content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done, yayyyy
> 
> Probably not the best representation of a Christmas movie, but eh. I had fun writing it.
> 
> I hope y'all liked it too, and have a great holiday season!


End file.
